


Snowed In

by TheCephalopodAgency



Series: Unfinished Snippets, The Series™ [9]
Category: Five Nights at Freddy's
Genre: Gen, Ghost buddies, friendship buddies in the afterlife, mike is dead, phone guy haunts the phone, phone guy is named after scott cawthon, rip mike, the afterlife is just ghosts
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-24
Updated: 2019-05-24
Packaged: 2020-03-13 12:44:30
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,039
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18941209
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheCephalopodAgency/pseuds/TheCephalopodAgency
Summary: Mike Schmidt worked up the courage to quit his job after seven nights of increasingly horrifying animatronic nonsense and was immediately blackmailed into returning.Unfinished, and probably never will be, but I liked what I came up with as I was writing this and attempting ti piece together everything in the story. I think I stopped after the fourth game, maybe? It's been a while since I worked on it. Definitely before Marionette was revealed to be not the crying child.My original idea was 'Mike gets beaten up and dies when the store is robbed or something during a snow storm and the animatronics kill his murderer' and as more games came out i kept changing everything and it just got so complicated that I Stopped™Almost none of this is compliant with the actual story we've pieced together





	Snowed In

“Twenty more minutes, twenty more minutes…” Mike Schmidt chanted those same three words over and over like they were the only thing keeping him alive. His eyes were focused on so many things at once, it made him dizzy.

 

Open camera, check Pirate’s Cove- hidden, close camera, open east hall door, check west hall- clear, close east hall door, open camera, check Pirate’s Cove- hidden, close camera, open east hall door, check west hall- clear, close east hall door, open camera, check Pirate’s Cove- open, close camera, open east hall door, check west hall- Bonnie, open camera, check Pirate’s Cove- open, close camera, open east hall door, open west hall door- clear, close east hall door, open camera, check Pirate’s Cove- out, close camera, close west hall door, open east hall door, open west hall door, close east hall door, open camera, Check Pirate’s Cove- hidden, close camera.

 

It was a never ending cycle of cameras and doors, repeating every three minutes or so. Briefly, his eyes flicked away from the camera and to the clock sitting on his desk. Only ten minutes until the Animatronics’ programming told them to return to the stage.

 

Close east hall door, check power…

 

Ten minutes to go, and Mike only had one percent left on his power meter. Any second, the lights would cut out and Freddy would take his sweet time pronouncing each step as he moved from the east hall, to the west, before playing the song that now haunted Mike’s nightmares. Sure enough, as soon as he’d thought it, the lights over his head cut out, and the quiet humming sound of the backup generator powering his doors and camera finally died down and the building grew silent, except for the sounds of the animatronics.

 

He didn’t know why Freddy preferred the west hall when the power went out, but it would give Mike at least three minutes. Freddy liked to torture him, slowly stomping down the hall, through the party room and up the other hall. He learned on Saturday that he also liked to stand outside the door, just… breathing. Loudly. And then he would flash his light optics along to the sound of the Fazbear rendition of Toreadors March for another two or three minutes.

 

It was also Saturday that he realized the guy on the phone’s advice about acting like an empty suit was utter bullshit. The only thing that saved him from Freddy in that office was the time rolling over to six before his large hand could wrap around his neck. It wasn't like he could blame him too much. He WAS dead, after all, so he probably found his own advice sucked all on his own. And it wasn't like this phone man hadn't been keeping Mike alive this past week.

 

How would he have figured out how that stupid fox worked without that call? Before, to save power, Mike had only ever used the camera to check the stage or the halls. Without his tips, Mike would probably be in a suit backstage just like... just like the phone guy.

 

His thoughts died slowly as the reality of his imminent death crashed down on him. He swallowed roughly, just noticing how dry his throat was. Even on the sixth night, he still had enough time between checking his doors and cameras to drink his coffee. Tonight, the oversized thermos sat untouched on his desk, because taking the time to unscrew the cap and pour coffee into it takes ten seconds too long.

 

Suddenly, Mike had an idea. Quietly, he reached for the thermos and unscrewed the cap with shaking hands. Steam wafted from the still hot liquid, warming his face. He wrinkled his nose at the smell. Though he loved coffee, ever since working here, he'd increased the strength of it in hopes of keeping him wired enough to stay up all night.

 

His heart pounded in his chest. The footsteps were approaching him now. Soon, they slowed, and Freddy's eyes lit up the hall. He waited until Freddy’s song began to wind down. Swallowing roughly, Mike sprang to his feet and splashed the coffee on the animatronic. He nearly dropped the thermos as an unholy shriek pierced the air.

 

Freddy began to flail uncontrollably as sparks flew from the coffee-soaked region of his face, heavy arms hitting the doorframe and almost Mike’s head. Mike ducked Freddy’s limbs, trying to get into the corridor, praying that the others were on stage now. He grunted in pain as the animatronic’s heavy microphone crashed into his shoulder, but kept going.

 

He could see the outline of Bonnie in the inky darkness, waiting for him at the end of the hall, arms reaching out to grab him. Freddy was stumbling after him, shrieking and crashing into the walls. Mike wasn't ashamed to admit a few fearful whimpers escaped his as he made a dive under Bonnie’s arms and rolled past him.

 

Freddy and Bonnie collided, tipping over and crashing to the ground. He didn't look back, running towards the stage. He could tell that Chica was already in place, ready to shut down for the night. Her eyes followed him as he skidded to a halt and turned towards the kitchens. Foxy was still active, his feet slamming against the tile as he chased him.

 

Mike made it through the open doorway and slammed it shut just moments before Foxy’s hooked hand crashed through the circular window, showering Mike in a layer of glass. He screamed. The door had one of those bar locks where you slid it through a slot screwed into the door and wall. He wasted no time sliding it into place, praying that Foxy would leave. He continued to assault the door until alarm on Mike's wristwatch alerted him to the end of his shift about seven minutes that felt like an eternity later.

 

Mike dropped like a weight, his legs too shaky to support him. He lay there on his back for a few minutes until the opening manager opened the main doors like he did every morning.

 

“What the..."

 

“I quit.”

 

* * *

_ “No matter what you offer, I’m not coming back!” Mike hissed into the phone. _

_ “I had a feeling you would say that. Let me put it this way, Mr. Schmidt. If you don’t come back, the CEO is prepared to take legal action.” _ __   
_   
_ __ “Legal action?! For wha--” He threw coffee on Freddy. 

_ “That’s right, Mr. Schmidt,” he said as if reading Mike’s mind. “You did almost irreparable damage our Freddy Fazbear animatronic.” _

_ “It was going to kill me, I defended myself!” _

_ “And who would believe you? You yourself said the police wouldn’t take you seriously.” _

* * *

“I can’t believe I’m coming back to this dump,” Mike sighed, resting his head against the steering wheel of his car. The lights from the neon ‘Freddy Fazbear’s Pizza’ cast an eerie red glow on everything in sight, leaving the fitting impression that he’d driven up to the intersection of Hell Street and Tartarus Avenue.

It was seven at night on a Saturday, and once again, Mike Schmidt was trying to find the courage he needed to enter the seemingly innocent family pizza parlor. A major boost was sitting inside the messenger bag in the passenger’s seat, tucked into his wallet. A check for two hundred dollars, and a promise of seven dollars an hour if he came back. He was surprised they still offered him the bonus after resorting to threatening him. It was still welcome; he would need the money to pay for spring classes.

Perhaps the only thing that really got him moving was the good fortune he had in the weather. According to the Channel 7 weather station, a blizzard was rolling in at twelve, meaning he wouldn’t have to stay, because the snow would block the animatronics in. His job was to go in and lock everything down tonight, including… well, the animatronics themselves. But he tried not to think about that part. If he did, he never would have crawled through the front door.

To distract himself from the four sets of eyes no doubt glaring at him, Mike claimed a seat furthest from the stage and pulled a notebook out of his bag, then flipped to his checklist.

  1. Check All External Door Locks



“Not like that would stop an angry demonic robot,” he snorted. Foxy nearly destroyed the kitchen door after attacking it for an hour, and that was the strongest door in the place aside from the office door.

  1. Shut down main power



“Uh-huh, that’s not happening until I leave."

  1. Shut off the plumbing



"I should probably do that first so I don't forget..."

  1. Make sure Kitchen Staff has frozen anything perishable. The freezers work on backup power to ensure nothing goes to waste at night.



"Are you fucking kidding me? It was the FREEZER draining my power?" He was going to have a talk with his boss about recklessly endangering his life for a couple pounds of frozen cheese.

  1. Make sure the Animatronics are set on free roaming mode to avoid locking up their joints



 - Animatronics take a few hours to warm up free roaming mode during initial setup. Make sure to turn them on at 7:30 pm to assure they start waking by 12:00 am.

"So in twenty minutes I'm turning on these walking nightmares?"

  1. Double check the AI settings on the animatronics



"Great, so I have to crawl up there and play with their settings... while hoping they don't free-roam my body right into the spare FREDDY suit."

  1. Mop the floors



"What does that have to do with the weather?"

  1. Cover up windows with the tarps stored backstage



"Ugh..." Last time he was backstage, the smell nearly knocked him out. He never did check the empty suits…

  1. Make sure the earnings safe is secure in case of a break in during the storm



“Like anyone is going to plow through twenty feet of snow for a couple hundred dollars. Do we even make that much? Probably not.”

Reaching the of his list, Mike allowed his head to fall to the table so he could properly hate his life.

“Hello, Mr. Schmidt.”

Mike jumped in his seat.

“Me. Morgan, I didn't realize you were still here.”

“I was happy to hear you decided to come back. It’s so hard to keep people on the team. The long hours don’t agree with them, I suppose.” There was indication that he meant anything by it, but Mike couldn’t shake the feeling the manager definitely knew what happened to most of the night guards, and the real reason why Mike came back.

 

* * *

 

 

"God, this place is almost creepier when they aren't moving around." Mike frowned while surveying the party room. He'd never been here so early before, except for the day he signed up for the job, when the aftermath of a small birthday party was being cleared out. During his shift there was always some sort of noise, be it the footsteps of the animatronics, the guy who left all those messages for him, or the music he assumed came from the arcade machines.

This was like someone had muted the restaurant with the click of a button. There was no way he could work with the overbearing silence. Especially when the animatronics were staring at him. Their eyes may have been closed, but Mike was sure they could see him.

What he needed was music. There was a radio sitting on a shelf in storage. Every time he searched for Bonnie in that little storage closet he could see it. Casting a look over his shoulder towards the band one last time, Mike walked down the west hall and unlocked the storage room.

The radio was indeed sitting on a shelf, and there didn't seem to be any damage. A smile grew in his face when he recognized a CD slot. He kept his meager collection of music in his bag, but since his CD player broke, he hadn't been able to listen to any of them.

 

* * *

 

 

He scanned the screen, trying to find Morgan. He didn’t seem to in the party room. Mike flipped screens again, checking the angle near Pirate’s Cove, seeing nothing. A loud crash echoed from the kitchen the moment he changed cameras again. A human voice hissed in pain. Mike was relieved for a moment, until he remembered that the breaker box was in the kitchen. Could he have…?

His suspicions were confirmed for the most part when the party room camera showed his visitor exiting the kitchen area with something very sharp-and-deadly-knife-like. He bit down on his lip to hold in any sounds threatening to escape. He needed to be silent and quick. Fuck the power and the free-roaming shit, he needed to get outside. The geniuses managing this corner of hell would rather the animatronics disembowel their nightguards than, heaven forbid, one of them decided to defend himself and scuff up the animatronics, so he had nothing. No baton, no baseball bat, no gun.

Hell, if he was desperate the only thing heavy enough and not bolted to the floor was that fucking fan. Lugging a heavy metal object would only be noisy and slow him down. Instead of trying, he instead waited until the man chose a hall to go down- the right hall, which was thankfully further from the back door in the left hall. Mike switched off the tablet and slipped out the left door, silently making his way towards the door. The door was right in front of him. He just needed to unlock it… wait.

“No…” The keys weren’t hooked onto his bet. They were in the party room, near the show stage…

He heard the approaching footsteps echoing up the right hall and through the security room. His only hope now was the quickly run down the hall and go out the front, or hide. He made a quick decision to duck into the supply closet, quietly pulling the door shut and ducking behind a stack of empty boxes.

He held his breath when the steps passed the closet and then fell still. “Mr. Schmidt? Where have you gone…?” There was an odd tone in his voice that made Mike’s skin crawl. The door opened and for a second, he thought he’d been found.

He could see Morgan’s silhouette in the darkness. He took a step into the closet and then a loud crash echoed from from somewhere else in the building. Morgan took off in the direction of the sound and after a few seconds of waiting for the heavy footfalls to go quiet, he finally let out the breath he’d been holding in, trying not to be too loud. After a few moments he slipped out of the closet and returned to the office, finding Morgan examining the stage. He squinted and noticed the crash seemed to have been from Bonnie’s guitar, now laying on the ground.

He seriously hoped the animatronics weren't getting up early. There was still about a half hour until midnight. Hopefully it was just Bonnie falling apart.

 

* * *

 

 

“I won't let you get away with this,” he choked out between coughs. Morgan laughed, nudging him roughly with his foot. Mike choked on the blood welling up in his throat as the touch irritated his wounds.

“And what do you think you can do, Mr. Schmidt? You’ll bleed out soon, if they,” he jerked his thumb towards the stage, “don't get you.” He was right. Mike knew there was nothing he could do. Even now, everything was growing cold.

The sound of a phone ringing breached the silence. Morgan reached for his phone, flipping the screen up. “I’m sure the CEO is eager to know you’ve been taken care of,” he grinned, pressing the talk button.

“Hello? Hello, we haven't talked for quite some time, Mr. Morgan.” The color drained from his face.

“What? Cawthon? You’re dead--”

“You never should have come back here,” Phone Guy said. Morgan’s skin visibly crawled. Mike felt a small amount of satisfaction at his discomfort. “I wasn't able to save you. The least we can do is avenge you.”

There was a drop in the atmosphere as a strange wind swept through the place. Tables were pushed aside, blocking doors and windows. Mike felt something-- no, someone, touching his shoulder. A bit of warmth flowed back into him and his vision sharpened. He couldn't quite make anyone out, but in his peripheral vision, it appeared to be long, gloved fingers.

Morgan was panicking. He dropped the the phone, looking around. Up on the main stage, the animatronics were starting to come to life.

“You might want to return to the office. Freddy and his friends tend to become more active at night, after all.” Bonnie’s joints made an ominous clicking sound as his head turned to stare at Morgan, who backed up a few steps before bolting towards the hallways.

It was after midnight at this point, because Bonnie started making his way off the stage. Mike was too exhausted and in pain to even try escaping and the six foot bunny came closer.

Something told him he would be fine, however, and he had a feeling it was from the presence over his shoulder. Bonnie was towering over him, though he made no move to grab him.

“All this time, I thought you were evil…” The bunny stared at him silently, head tilted as he spoke. “...but you were victims too.” Mike swallowed back the blood welling in his throat. Everything seemed so far away now. His own voice was like a whisper. He closed his eyes to blink, but when they opened again, Bonnie was gone. Bonnie and Chica were gone. The only one on stage was Freddy, peering into the camera over the stage.

He must have passed out if both of them had disappeared without his notice. He was amazed that he hadn't bled out yet.

“It’s a pleasure to finally meet you, Mr. Schmidt.” Mike’s heart leapt into his throat as the phone guy’s voice pierced the silence. The air in front of him shimmered and a figure materialized, taking on the shape of a man whose body was littered with bleeding cuts and lacerations.

“What?” How eloquent, Mike. He blinked a few times at the outstretched hand before tentatively taking it and allowing him to help him climb to his feet. He nearly tilted over again if not for the steady hand gripping his arm. He felt so light all of a sudden.

“My name is Scott Cawthon. I’m the guard who worked here before you.”

“Oh.” It made sense in a strange way. “So am I hallucinating or are you a ghost?” He asked airily. Scott chuckled, though it was a more subdued, bitter sound than it was cheerful.

“We’re ghosts, Mr. Schmidt.” He gestured towards the ground at Mike’s feet. Mike followed the movement and suddenly felt very lightheaded. It was surreal seeing your own body lying on the floor in a massive puddle of blood. He stumbled away from it, barely keeping his balance.

His eyes were still open, the blue irises completely glazed over. His face still had that last pained grimace etched over his features. The knife was still sticking out of his abdomen.

“It’s a shock, I know.” Scott’s hand settled on his shoulder. “My body is still backstage. Every time I look at it, I feel the same way.”

“So they…?”

“I didn't feel anything. I passed out before midnight. When the Marionette woke me up, I was completely numb.”

 

* * *

 

 

“Why are we the only ones here? I know that they've killed more guards.”

“The Marionette doesn't often take adults. He usually latches onto children because he wants to save them.

“The Marionette? Is he another animatronic? I’ve never seen him.”

“He was a character from the old location. When it went out of business in ‘87, he was decommissioned along with the Toys. We kept him in storage all these years.” Scott reached into his pocket and pulled out a tattered wallet, flipping it open. “I have a picture of us all with the characters.” He handed the wallet to Mike.

“That’s him right there.” He tapped the photo right next to a long, thin body with a round head. Something seemed strangely familiar about it, but he wasn't sure what until he noticed the long spindly fingers. They were just like the ones that he’d seen on his shoulder before he died.

“You know, when I worked there I didn't really like the Marionette.” Scott admitted. “I was surprised when he made me like them.” He said, glancing towards the stage where Freddy still stood. Mike couldn't say he was surprised. The Marionette was kind of creepy, with his long tapered fingers and that mask. But if he’d helped him, Mike was willing to give the Marionette a chance, an opinion he voiced to the other guard.

“You’ll actually have the chance to say that in person once the night is over. He doesn’t show himself often, but I have a feeling he’ll come out to speak with you.”

“Who are the two guys in the photo?” He asked after finally tearing his gaze from the Marionette. One of them was blonde, with dark blue eyes. The man next to him was a bit taller, with darker brown hair and matching eyes. He looked ill, his skin bruised purple in places. They wore a matching set of uniforms similar the one Mike and Scott were wearing.

“Ah, that one is Michael Afton.” He pointed at the taller one with a sad smile. “He disappeared shortly after this was taken. It was because of what happened to Jeremy, the other boy in the photo.”

Scott fell silent and Mike wasn't sure if he should ask what happened back then. He didn't have to, because Scott sighed and continued.

“He was on our team for a week. He took over night shift for Michael, until his last day, where we put them both on day shift to keep an eye out during the last party before the place was shot down. One of the Toys started glitching out like crazy and when we tried to shut it down, it lunged forward and… well, Jeremy didn't wake up for months after that, and he was never the same again.”

“Do you have a suit too?”

Cawthon shifted and rubbed his neck. “Sort of. It’s… actually the phone.”

“The… phone?”

“In the office. I can't go far from it but I can speak through any phone in the building, and I can visit every room before I’m pulled back in.”   
  
“Am I… attached, to anything?”

“You don't have to be. Not unless you choose something to let you interact with the world.”

 

* * *

 

“Morgan is apparently a natural, likely from all the years of studying us and their patterns. It’s very likely he’ll survive longer than most of his victims did.”

Mike felt a sudden burst of anger. “The man who killed them is here, and they’re playing games with him? Don’t they want him dead?”   
  
“Calm down Mr. Schmidt” Scott said. “He wasn’t their murderer. They hate him, but not as much as we do.

“But why the games? Why not be over with it now? If all four of them went at him right now he would dead in an hour.”

“It’s how they cope with being dead. They are children, after all. Games are familiar.”

“They’re children?”

Scott nodded, looking at the stage where Freddy stood motionless in the darkness. “Years ago, William Afton killed them. I don't know why. He’s more monster than human. We have no idea where he went. Until they get revenge on him they can't pass on. The Marionette never told me why he brought me back but I just feel like I need to help them.”

  
“Have you ever met the children?”   
  
“Once. They aren’t like us. They’re more like impressions of emotion. Fear and anger, mostly, but playful.”

 

* * *

 

“We are tethered because we were murdered by Mr. Morgan. You were stabbed to death, I was incapacitated and trapped in the office. We can't move on because we are angry. We are restless. The others were just… afraid.”

“Er, could you clarify?”

“My last thoughts the day I died were angry ones. I had confronted Mr. Morgan about the animatronics. I was sick of it. Disappearing night guards, the way they behaved at night. He broke my leg and left me to die, like you."

“You almost met the same fate as I did. If you hadn't made it to the kitchen, you would have died the same way as me. Why did you come back?”

“He threatened me. He said that I’d messed up Freddy. I couldn't afford to be sued."

 

* * *

 

 

“No! Let go of me, damn you!” Morgan screamed, twisting a flailing as Freddy dragged him from the office.

“Freddy always has the last laugh,” Scott muttered, eyes transfixed on their murderer. Mike knew watching the brutal murder about to take place would change him. Despite that, he matched Scott’s pace as they followed. On the stage, the other animatronics were waiting. An empty Freddy suit was already pried open and ready for Morgan’s body.

A strange feeling washed over him when Freddy jerked Morgan to his feet so roughly his arm dislocated from its socket. Bonnie grabbed his other arm and together they lined his body up with the suit. If he were still alive, Mike was certain the volume of his screams would have pierced his eardrums.

Beside him Scott was clenching his fists. Each mechanical scrape and groan made him shudder but he continued to watch. A pool of blood was growing under the suit as spokes and wires pierced his skin. They were forcing him in from his legs first. By the time they started to shove his upper body into the suit his legs were a bloody mess and his screams became a mix of incoherent babblings and loud, obnoxious sobs.

The whole process took maybe ten minutes. When they pushed his head inside and locked the mask into place, true to Scott’s words, his eyes and teeth were all he could see.

“When I died,” Scott said, “I never thought I would get to see my murderer punished. I’m sorry you had to die, Mike, but without your death I would have never gotten my revenge.”

“At least something good came out of it.” Mike leaned back against the table, watching the animatronics haul Morgan’s suit backstage. 

“So are you going to keep your promise?” Mike turned towards Scott, looking confused.

“What?”

“I won't let you get away with this. Remember? Now that our killer is dead, we can move on. But you know this runs deeper than one man, one restaurant. Will you stay behind?”

Mike looked thoughtful for a moment. His life was over, but he had the chance to carry on and maybe stop this from happening to someone else. It wasn't exactly living up to his dream of making detective, but the idea was the same. He finally nodded.

“Yeah, I think I’ll stick around.”

* * *

 

 

Mike was sitting on the derelict stage, his legs kicking idly as raindrops fell through him. The children were restless behind him, laughing at something only they could understand. He was lost in thought, and didn’t notice when Scott dropped down beside him until he spoke.

“Someone’s broken in,” he said. “Every so often some poor fool wandered in, thinking it would be fun to explore or that they could find something valuable. Irt always ended in death. Mike sighed, and leaned forward, elbows digging into his knees as he waited to see what the unlucky person looked like.   
  
When the man reached the party room, Mike couldn’t make out many features. He was covered in dark clothing. He hummed, and looked at his companion, about to say something, but the words died on his lips.

“That’s him, that’s Afton.” Scott frowned.

“What’s he doing here?” Mike wondered aloud.

“I won't question our luck. This is our chance, Mike. To finally end this and set them free.”

 

* * *

 

 

“I knew that room was there, but I didn't realize the Spring Bonnie suit was stored here.” Scott’s expression was unreadable. “This suit should have been destroyed after what it was used for.”

 

* * *

 

 

With a satisfying crunch, Afton’s laughter became screams. Blood oozeed from the joints and they watched, eyes wide with shock. Was it really that simple? Was it over?

  
It was silent for a while. Mike wasnt sure how long the seven of them stared at the twitching suit, waiting for the body within to die. When he finally fell still, Mike was expecting to feel something. Afton was dead. This was what they wanted. Shouldn't he have felt something?   


 

* * *

 

 

“Why haven't they moved on? What…” Afton started laughing again. The children grouped together and hid behind them. Mike looked behind him and saw the Spring Bonnie suit climb back to its feet, blood and rainwater pouring out of the joints.

“No…” Why? How? Afton examined his new hands, touching his new face. Smears of blood rubbed all over the decaying suit.

“They don't need to see this,” Scott said. “Get them out of here before he realizes they're still here.”

“Right… god, this is… come on, let's get out of here.” It didn't take much to usher the five souls out of the back room and into the manager's old office. They settled into the corner and huddled together. They were so small out of their suits, so vulnerable…

The security guards stood away from them and spoke quietly.

“How is he back? Marionette wouldn't have brought him back!”

“I don't know… the same the Marionette came back, maybe?”

“We can't let him get out of this building,” Mike decided. “Who knows what he’ll do if he gets free?”

“The springlock suits are programmed to follow noises. If we keep him distracted he won’t be able to get out.”

“We need to trap him. Lure him somewhere he can't escape from.”

 

**Author's Note:**

> And that's all of what i had. Some of it might be a little contradictory cause i kept changing things around but it;s whatever.


End file.
